Fatal Tide

  “I’ll take you.” Kelby took her hand. “Let’s get this over with, Halley.”

  The room was cold.

  The glare of the stainlesss-steel table where the body lay covered by a white sheet was colder.

  The whole world was cold. That must be why she couldn’t stop shaking.

  “You can change your mind,” Kelby murmured. “You don’t have to do this, Melis.”

  “Yes, I do.” She stepped closer to the table. “I have to know—” She drew a deep breath and then told Halley, “Uncover her face.”

  Halley hesitated and then slowly drew back the sheet.

  “Oh, God.” She shrank back against Kelby. “Oh, Jesus, no.”

  “Out.” Kelby’s arm went around her. “Let’s get her away from here, Halley.”

  “No.” She swallowed and took a step nearer. “There’s still . . . It might not . . . She has a birthmark beneath the hair on her left temple. She was always going to have it removed, but she never got around to it.” She gently brushed the hair back from the ruin of the woman’s face.

  Please. Jesus, let it not be there. Let this poor, savaged woman not be Carolyn.

  “Melis?” Kelby said.

  “I’m . . . sick.” She barely made it across the room to the stainless-steel sink before she threw up. She hung desperately to the curled metal edge to keep from falling.

  Then Kelby was there beside her, holding her. She could hear the pounding of his heart beneath her ear. Life. Carolyn’s heart would never beat like that again.

  “It’s your friend?” Kelby said gently.

  “It’s Carolyn.”

  “You’re sure?” Halley asked.

  She had been sure the moment he drew down that sheet. But she had not wanted to admit it to herself. “Yes.”

  “Then get the hell out of here.” Halley turned away and began to draw the sheet over Carolyn’s face.

  “No.” Melis broke free of Kelby’s hold and moved back across the room. “Not yet. I have to—” She stood looking down at Carolyn’s face. “I have to remember. . . .”

  The pain was twisting hot and sharp through her, dissolving the ice and leaving only despair.

  Carolyn . . .

  Friend. Teacher. Sister. Mother.

  Dear God in heaven, what did they do to you?

  “This is your room.” Kelby unlocked the door and turned on the light of the hotel room. “I’m next door in the adjoining room. Keep that door ajar. I want to hear you if you call out. Don’t open the hall door at all.”

  Carolyn lying still and cold.

  “Okay.”

  Kelby cursed beneath his breath. “You’re not listening. Did you hear what I said?”

  “Don’t open the door. I won’t. I don’t want to let anyone in.” She just wanted to be alone. Close the world out. Close the pain out.

  “I guess that’s as good as it’s going to get. Remember, I’m here if you need me.”

  “I’ll remember.”

  He looked at her with frustration. “I don’t know what to do, dammit. This isn’t my— Tell me what I can do for you.”

  “Go away,” she said simply. “Just go away.”

  He didn’t move, a multitude of expressions chasing across his face. “Oh, what the hell.” The door closed behind him and an instant later she heard him check to make sure it was locked.

  He hadn’t trusted her to lock the door, she realized vaguely. Perhaps he was right. She couldn’t seem to keep two thoughts together.

  But she had no problem with memories. The memory of Carolyn when she’d first met her. The memory of her at the wheel of her boat, laughing at Melis over her shoulder.

  The memory of the broken, torn Carolyn lying on that slab in the morgue.

  She switched off the light and sank down in the easy chair by the window. She didn’t want light. She wanted to crawl into a cave and be alone in the darkness.

  Maybe the bad memories wouldn’t follow her there.

  “Jesus, you’re a hard man to find, Jed.”

  Kelby whirled around to see a giant of a man coming toward him down the hall.

  He relaxed as he recognized Nicholas Lyons. “Tell that to Wilson, Nicholas. He had to scour St. Petersburg for you.”

  “I was having a few difficulties.” He added dryly, “But I didn’t leave a trail of bodies behind me. Wilson tells me you’ve got yourself into a bit of first-class nastiness here.” He glanced at the door. “Is that her room?”

  Kelby nodded. “Melis Nemid.” He moved a few feet down the hall and unlocked his door. “Come in and I’ll order you a drink and fill you in.”

  “I can hardly wait.” Nicholas grimaced as he followed him. “It might be safer for me to go back to Russia.”

  “But less profitable.” He turned on the light. “If you’re going to risk getting yourself killed, it might as well be for something worthwhile.”

  “Marinth?”

  “Wilson told you?”

  Lyons nodded. “It’s the bait that drew me here. I decided that you need the services of a first-rate shaman like me if you’re going to try to mess around with Marinth.”

  “Shaman? You’re a half-breed Apache who grew up in the Detroit slums.”

  “Don’t bother me with truth when I’m concocting such a great lie. Besides, I spent summers on the reservation. You’d be surprised what I learned about magic when I applied myself.”

  No, Kelby wouldn’t be surprised. He’d realized Lyons was multifaceted from the moment he’d met him at SEAL training in San Diego. On the surface he was all friendly, casual charisma, but Kelby had never run into anyone more coolly efficient and savage when called into action. “What kind of magic?”

  “White magic, naturally. We Indians have to be politically correct these days.” He smiled. “Want me to read your mind?”

  “Hell, no.”

  “What a spoilsport. You’ve never really let me show you my talents. I’ll tell you anyway.” He closed his eyes and put his hand to his forehead. “You’re thinking about Marinth.”

  Kelby snorted. “That’s an easy enough guess.”

  “Nothing about Marinth is easy.” He opened his eyes and his smile faded. “Because it’s your dream, Jed. Dreams are never simple. There are too many interpretations.”

  “It’s your dream, too, or you wouldn’t be here.”

  “I dream about the money it could bring. Hell, I don’t know enough about Marinth for anything else. I didn’t want to know. But now it appears you’re going to have to fill me in.”

  “Okay, you’ve got to know that word first broke on Marinth in the late 1940s.”

  “Yeah, I saw that old copy of National Geographic you’ve had on the Trina. They did a spread on the discovery of the tomb of some scribe buried in the Valley of the Kings.”

  “Hepsut, scribe of the royal court. It was a great find since he’d covered the walls of his future burial place with the history of his time. Yet an entire wall was dedicated to the tale of Marinth, an island city destroyed in a great flood. It was an ancient tale even in the scribe’s lifetime. Marinth was wealthy beyond belief. It had everything. Rich farmlands, a navy, a prosperous fishing industry. And it was reputed to be a technological and cultural mecca for the whole world. Then one night, the gods took back what they had created. They sent a great wave and drew the city back into the sea where it was born.”

  “Sounds suspiciously like Atlantis.”

  “That was the general consensus. Marinth was just another name for a tale about Atlantis.” He paused. “Maybe it was. It doesn’t matter. What does matter is that this scribe devoted an entire wall of his final resting place to Marinth. Everything else in the tomb pertained to the history of Old Egypt. Why would he change horses in midstream and tell a fairy tale?”

  “So you think it’s not a legend?”

  “Perhaps part of it is legend. But if even a tenth of it is true, the possibilities are damn exciting.”

  “Like I said, your dream.” His gaze
went to the adjoining door. “But it’s not her dream, is it? After all that’s happened, it has to be more like a nightmare.”

  “I’ll see that she reaps a profit.”

  “Profit can have a number of interpretations too.”

  “God, I can’t stand you when you’re philosophical.”

  “I was more enigmatic than philosophical.”

  Kelby crossed to the phone. “I’ll order you a bourbon. Maybe it will blur your—”

  “Don’t bother. You know we Indians can’t take firewater.”

  “I don’t know any such thing. You’ve drunk me under the table any number of times.”

  “Well, I have to keep a clear head when you’re trying to get it blown off. Besides, I don’t think you’re in any mood to amuse me tonight. My shaman powers sense a definite emotional downswing.” He turned and headed for the door. “I still have to check into this hotel. I’ll call you when I have a room number.”

  “You haven’t asked what I want you to do.”

  “You want to make me rich. You want me to make your dream come true.” He paused to glance again at Melis’s adjoining door. “And you want me to help keep her alive while we’re doing it. Does that cover it?”

  “That covers it.”

  “And you said I wasn’t a true shaman.” The door closed behind him.

  Nicholas was right, Kelby thought wearily. He was tired and frustrated and his mood was definitely somber. It was good to have Nicholas here, but he didn’t want to deal with him right now. He couldn’t shake the memory of Melis Nemid’s face as she had looked down at the horror that had once been her friend. He had wanted to curse and rage and then scoop her up and carry her out of there.

  An unusual reaction from him. But then, his every response had been unusual since he’d met Melis. He could generally transform any softening in his feelings toward her by concentrating on some other element, such as her sexuality, as he had in the hospital in Athens. But he hadn’t been able to do that since he’d met her at the airport in Tobago. Yes, he’d been sexually aware of her, but there had been so damn much more. She seemed to trigger emotions that he wasn’t even aware he had anymore.

  And she hadn’t opened the adjoining door as he’d told her to do.

  Kelby crossed the room and opened it a narrow crack. There was no light in her room, but he could sense she was awake—and in pain. It was as if he were connected to her in some way. Crazy.

  He’d be glad when she was less vulnerable and he could get more perspective on the situation.

  Don’t think about her. He’d call Wilson and see if he’d managed to trace that cruiser. Then he’d contact Halley and give him his room number in case he had any new info.

  Don’t think about Melis Nemid sitting in that room. Don’t think of her pain. Don’t think of her courage. Just keep busy and work toward the goal. The dream. Marinth.

  Kelby knocked on the adjoining-room door and then opened it all the way when she didn’t answer. “Are you okay?”

  “No.”

  “Well, I’m coming in anyway. I decided to let you alone to grieve for a while, but you’ve been sitting here in the dark for the past twenty-four hours. You need to eat.”

  “I’m not hungry.”

  “Not much.” He flipped on the light as he entered the room. “Just enough to combat the shock. I’ve ordered some tomato soup and a sandwich.” He grimaced. “I know you don’t want me here, but you’ll have to tell me if there’s someone else you need me to call.”

  She shook her head. “Have they finished with the autopsy?”

  “You don’t want to talk about this.”

  “Yes, I do. Tell me.”

  He nodded. “They rushed it and the DNA test. They wanted a final confirmation for a number of reasons.”

  “The people whose records were stolen.”

  “I admit Halley’s taking some heat. It’s—” He broke off at a knock on the door. “There’s your meal.” He crossed the room and she heard him talking to the waiter. Then he was shutting the door and wheeling in a cart. “Sit down and eat something. I’ll answer any questions you want after you finish.”

  “I’m not—” She met his gaze. He wasn’t going to budge and she needed information. It was a small price to pay. She sat down and began to eat. She finished the sandwich, left the soup, and pushed the cart aside. “When will they release Carolyn’s body?”

  He poured her a cup of coffee from the carafe. “Do you want me to ask Halley?”

  She nodded. “She wanted to be cremated and her ashes thrown into the sea. I want to be here when that’s done. I need to say good-bye.”

  “Her ex-husband, Ben Drake, is already taking care of the arrangements. All that’s left is the release.”

  “Ben must be heartbroken. He still loved her, you know. They couldn’t live together, but that didn’t mean anything. Everyone loved Carolyn.”

  “You most of all.” He studied her. “You’re more composed than I thought you’d be. You’re pale as a ghost, but I was expecting a complete breakdown when I brought you here. You were on the brink.”

  She was still on the brink. She felt as if she were walking on the edge of a cliff, putting one foot in front of the other, and never sure if the ledge would collapse beneath her. “I wouldn’t do that to Carolyn.” She kept her voice steady with an effort. “She would have been disappointed in me if I let myself go to pieces. She would have felt as if she’d failed me.”

  “If she was as kind as you say, I don’t think she’d mind if you let go and—”

  “I’d mind.” She stood up and moved toward the window that overlooked the sea. “Have they found anything more about Carolyn’s death?”

  “The official verdict is loss of blood.”

  She braced herself. “She was tortured, wasn’t she? Her poor face . . .”

  “Yes.”

  “What . . . did they do to her?”

  He was silent.

  “Tell me. I have to know.”

  “So that you can hurt more?” he asked roughly.

  “If they tortured her, it was because they wanted her to get me here. They almost succeeded, so they must have hurt her terribly.” She folded her arms across her chest. Hold tight. Draw into a shell and the words won’t hurt so much. “If you don’t tell me, I’ll ask Halley.”

  “They used a knife on her face and breasts. They pulled two molars out by the roots from the back of her mouth. Are you satisfied now?”

  Pain. Hold tight. Hold tight. Hold tight.

  “No, I’m not satisfied, but I know the tally now.” She swallowed. “Halley has no clues? No witnesses?”

  “No.”

  “What about the name she said? Cox.”

  “Immigration has one Cox who’s recently arrived here. But he’s a solid citizen in his seventies, a philanthropist. Besides, I don’t think the scumball listening to Dr. Mulan’s conversation would have permitted her to tell you his name. Maybe she was confused.”

  “No names in her appointment book?”

  “No appointment book. Gone with the file records.”

  “When are they having Maria’s funeral?”

  “Tomorrow at ten. Her mother’s coming in from Puerto Rico tonight. You’re going?”

  “Of course.”

  “There’s no ‘of course’ about it. There have been two murders in the last forty-eight hours, both of them linked to you. Someone wants to get hold of you very badly. Yet you’re going to go to that funeral as if nothing has happened.”

  “Why not?” She smiled crookedly. “You’ll keep me safe. You don’t want anyone else to know anything about Marinth. Isn’t that why you’ve been parked on my doorstep?”

  He stiffened. “Sure. Otherwise I’d just let the people who carved up your friend have their go at you. What the hell do I care?”

  He was angry. Maybe even hurt? She didn’t know and she was in no shape to analyze what Kelby was feeling. She hardly knew the man.

  No, that wasn?
??t true. After what they had gone through together, she realized Kelby was not the spoiled, ambitious man she’d imagined him to be. He was hard, but he wasn’t totally ruthless. “I spoke without thinking. I guess I have a suspicious nature.”

  “Yes, you do. But you’re right. You just caught me off guard.” He moved toward the door. “I’ll be here tomorrow morning to pick you up and take you to the funeral. I’m going to go down to the station and try to harass Halley into giving me more information. I have a friend in the hall keeping an eye on you. His name is Nicholas Lyons. He’s big, ugly, has long black hair, and looks like Geronimo. Keep your door locked.” The door slammed behind him.

  She was glad he was gone. He was too strong, too vibrant. She didn’t need her concentration divided, as it always was when Kelby was near. She had to devote all her attention and effort to just getting through the next hours, the next days.

  And decide how to even out the tally.

  Chapter Five

  Melis’s phone rang at nine-thirty the next morning. “I’m Nicholas Lyons, Ms. Nemid. Jed’s down at the police station and running a little late. He asked me to take you to the funeral. He’ll join us there.”

  “I’ll meet you in the lobby.”

  “No, I’ll come and get you. There are too many exits, and elevators are never safe. Jed wouldn’t like it if I let you get snatched out from under us. Look through the peephole when I knock. I’m sure Jed described me. Tall, handsome, and chock-full of dignity and charm. Right?”

  “Not exactly.”

  “Then you’ll have a pleasant surprise.” He hung up.

  She glanced at the mirror in the foyer. Thank God she didn’t look as bad as she felt. She was pale but not haggard. Not that Maria’s mother would notice. She would be too devastated to be aware—

  A knock.

  She glanced through the peephole.

  “Nicholas Lyons. See? Jed lied to you.” He smiled. “He’s always been jealous of me.”

  Kelby hadn’t lied. Lyons was at least six foot five, powerfully built, and his shiny black hair was tied back in a queue. His features were so rough-hewn, they could have been called ugly if they hadn’t been interesting. “Well, he wasn’t right when he said you looked like Geronimo.” She unlocked the door. “The only pictures I’ve ever seen of Geronimo were taken when he was an old man.”